


Fair Is Foul and Foul Is Fair

by LaurenCrabtree



Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: (With an Inanimate Object), AU, Although That Might Be Featured Eventually Too, And I Don’t Mean Hosiery, Blindfolds, Claustrophobia, Condescending Kinga, Darkfic, Duct Tape As a Bondage Implement, Electricity, F/M, Face Slapping, Force Feeding, Forced Nudity, Gags, Gore, Guro, Humiliation, Isolation, Kinga Is Not Nice, Leashes, Lips sewn shut, Medieval Torture Devices, Mentions of Anal Tearing, Mentions of Chastity Cages, Needles, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Your Typical MST3K Fic, Plastic Wrap As a Bondage Implement, Psychological Torture, Restraints, Sadistic Kinga, Sensory Deprivation, Spanish Bootlicking to Be Precise, Stitches, Sympathetic Max, The Bots Aren’t In This One, Torture, Trying To Be Really Thorough in Tagging This Fic, Unethical Use of Hoses, Vet Wrap, Vibrating Butt Plugs, Vivisection, Vomiting, Watersports, bootlicking, canon-divergent, mentions of amputation, mentions of human trafficking, movement restriction, storage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-06-20 12:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15534450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurenCrabtree/pseuds/LaurenCrabtree
Summary: When Jonah Heston first received the distress call, he knew he had to do everything he could to save the people who sent it out. What he didn’t know was that the only one in distress would be him.AU where Kinga Forrester’s experiments are a lot darker and a lot more obviously evil. Currently on hiatus.





	1. Day Zero

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fairly short chapter compared to the next one; chapters will usually take place over the course of one day’s events. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, implied needles or darts used to administer the aforementioned drugs.

Jonah Heston was lost in the music. He had the payload in the back, he had the ship on autopilot, and he had the percussive drive system working perfectly. Now, all that was left was to make the straight shot back to Earth. Jonah wasn’t sure how long he had been traveling for, but he was too caught up in the beat of his own playing to care. The crisp rattle of the snares, the deep thumping of the bass, the melodic ring of the cymbals, everything blended to make a perfect combination of sounds that echoed through the ship and urged Jonah on even further. Nothing—absolutely nothing—could take him out of the zone he was in.

 

Except a distress call. When the signal came on and he patched the caller through, the screams, the sobbing, and the sounds of shattering glass and snapping bones on the other side were enough to make him snap into action mode, drop the payload, and put his ship into overdrive as he steered it toward the source of the call. He could come back for the payload; he couldn’t say the same for answering a distress call. Quickly realizing that the percussive drive system wouldn’t be enough, Jonah fired up the emergency thrusters so as to reach the call’s source as quickly as possible. As his destination came into view, he realized that he was headed for the dark side of the moon. Before he could give much thought to this, however, Jonah noticed one spot on the moon that was not dark at all; rather, it was unusually well-lit. This caused a new slew of thoughts to race through his mind as he tried to prepare himself for helping those who had called him. Was the light caused by an explosion? An electrical mishap? Something else entirely foreign to Earth? Choosing to head straight for that spot, he soon realized that it was none of those things; rather, the light was coming from a large domed building.

 

This immediately struck Jonah as odd; there were no permanent settlements on the moon—at least, there were none that he had heard of. That didn’t matter now, though; he needed to focus on the matter at hand. As the ship touched down on the moon’s surface, Jonah sprang out of his seat, put on his space suit as fast as he could, and jumped out the door. Making his way to the building as quickly as the moon’s low gravity would allow, Jonah tried to collect his thoughts and review what the procedures were for any of the various emergencies that could have occurred. He had dealt with distress calls before; he could deal with this one. Nevertheless, he was still nervous; when people’s lives could be at stake, he couldn’t afford not to be. With his heart thumping and his palms sweating, Jonah finally reached the building’s door. Relieved to find it unlocked, he stumbled through it to see the sort of view that he hadn’t expected at all.

 

The building was completely empty. Furthermore, it was also completely silent and completely clean. There were no visible signs of disaster whatsoever. For a moment, Jonah considered that there may have been a gas leak or a loss of oxygen, but that thought was quickly dispelled by the lack of any alarms going off. Cautiously, Jonah removed his space suit and began making his way toward a door to his right, but before he could get very far, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his shoulder. He didn’t even have time to reach back and feel for what it was before everything went black.

 

…

 

    The room that Jonah woke up in was clearly not his own. It was tidy—spotless, even—and was completely bare save for the mattress he was laying on. There was a light fixture and a security camera, both of which were covered by metal grates. Most curiously, the walls, ceiling, and floor were padded. There was one window that offered Jonah a glimpse of what lay outside, but upon walking over to it, Jonah quickly realized that all he could see from it was the star-laden vastness of space and the rocky, cratered surface of the moon.

 

    The thought quickly struck Jonah that he didn’t know  _ which _ moon—or planet, for that matter. He had no idea how much time had passed since he had entered that mysterious building; for all he knew, he wasn’t even in the same galaxy. At best, he was in some sort of hospital, rescued from whatever had led to the distress call; at worst…

 

    He didn’t want to think about what the worst could be. Before he could ponder it any further, though, the door to his room swung open, startling him and utterly derailing his train of thought. He turned with a jump and came face to face with the person responsible for the startling noise. She was about five-foot-five, pale, thin, and had green eyes. Her red hair was piled into a bun and secured by two bone-shaped hairpins, and she wore a purple peacoat, black pants, and black leather boots. The look on her face was nothing short of condescending. Behind her was a stout, gray-haired man about two inches shorter than her, a notepad in his hand and a nervous look on his face.

 

“Jonah Heston.” She said his name with a smirk as she closed the door. It was a simple phrase, but it sent Jonah’s thoughts into a tailspin. How did she know his name? Did he know her from somewhere, or did she do some snooping on his ship? He didn’t recognize her, that was for sure. Jonah opened his mouth to ask how she knew him, but the question lodged in his throat when he unexpectedly felt her hand on the back of his neck. “My name is Kinga Forrester, and this,” She gestured toward the man behind her, “is my assistant, Max.”

 

Max nodded and began writing something down on his notepad. Kinga had begun stroking the back of his neck by that point, and Jonah could feel his pulse pounding beneath her hand. He felt frozen to the spot where he stood, but he was able to finally work up the nerve to choke out a question.

 

“Where am I? What am I doing here?” The words came out hoarsely, and as he said them, he wondered if he had made the right decision in asking a question at all.

 

“Tomorrow, Jonah. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.” Her voice was no longer sharp and derisive; she now sounded cloyingly sweet and almost amused, as if she was talking to a dog. Jonah could tell that whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to be good. “For now, you should get some rest; I have a long day in store for you.”

 

As she said this, Jonah tried to grab her hand and remove it from his neck, but she beat him to it, taking hold of his wrists and pinning them behind his back. Then, to his horror, she reached into her coat pocket, pulled out two syringes filled with a clear liquid, and began to line one up against his thigh. Jonah tried to pull away from her, but she had an iron grip on his wrists and had managed to back him up against the wall without him even realizing it. Slowly, she pushed the needle into his left thigh, pressing down on the plunger until the syringe’s contents had been completely emptied. Jonah winced as she did so, just as much out of emotional discomfort as out of physical pain. She then did the same to his right thigh, and as she did, she ushered Jonah over to the mattress. He tried to resist, but it only resulted in him tripping over his own feet as his legs had begun to go limp. Luckily, she was able to catch him and lay him down on the mattress. Jonah desperately tried to get up, but found that neither his arms nor his legs would move enough to do so. Along with that, both his vision and his thoughts were becoming increasingly cloudy. Kinga was saying something, but he couldn’t tell what. The last thing he saw was Kinga’s hand brushing against his chest before his body went numb and his mind went blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to chat with me on Tumblr, you can find me at @laurencrabtree.


	2. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up in an unfamiliar room, Jonah discovers that Kinga has some rather unorthodox methods of helping him get acquainted with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Vivisection, non-consensual drug use, electricity, restraints, needles, blindfolds, gags, forced nudity, stitches.

The first things that Jonah felt when he woke up were a stabbing pain in his arm and a cold sensation beneath him. He blinked a few times, allowing his vision to come into focus, and saw that the stark white ceiling above him was not padded but tiled and had numerous bright lights embedded in it. Cautiously, he tried to sit up but was met with immediate resistance around his ankles, wrists, and neck. To his shock, he looked to the right and saw that not only were his wrists strapped to what appeared to be a metal table, but there was also an IV hooked up to his upper arm. Looking forward, he observed that his ankles were similarly strapped down and that he was naked. He opened his mouth to scream, but found it covered by a latex-gloved hand.

 

“Shh, Jonah; no one’s going to hear you. No one besides me, that is.” He didn’t have to look up to know that it was Kinga, but he did anyway. She was wearing a white lab coat and had what looked like a small remote in her other hand. Jonah had a feeling he wouldn’t want to know what it did. For a moment, he considered trying to bite her hand, but decided against it as he didn’t want to risk hurting himself by pulling on the strap around his neck. “Now, if I recall correctly, you had some questions for me yesterday.” She took her hand off of his mouth and began running it through his hair.

 

“Yeah, what’s going on here? And why am I strapped to a table? ...You were the reason those people sent out a distress call, weren’t you?!”

 

Kinga seemed unfazed by the frustration in Jonah’s voice. She smiled at him as if he was the most adorable thing in the world and said something that made more sense than Jonah cared to admit.

 

“Oh, Jonah… I was the one who _sent_ the distress call. You’re still on the moon—more specifically, you’re at Moon Thirteen, _my_ home base—and you’re strapped to this table so that we can get a little more acquainted with each other.”

 

“Yeah, you’re off to a _great_ start trying to get to know me; strapping someone down to a table with an IV in their arm is a real icebreaker.”

 

“You should be grateful for that IV; without it, you’d probably be hallucinating. Waking up from a ketamine knockout can do that to you.”

 

“So you’ll kidnap me, drug me, and strap me to a table, but you stop at making me hallucinate?”

 

“For now, yes. I’d rather you were completely focused on reality for the time being.” Jonah didn’t like the sound of that, especially considering how calm she sounded. Taking his eyes off of Kinga, Jonah surveyed his surroundings. He appeared to be in some kind of laboratory, with various shelves and cabinets lining the wall to his left and a long table on the right with various tools and devices neatly arranged on it, with a computer sitting on the end nearest to his feet. Against the wall in front of him, there was a large refrigerator and freezer near one corner and a file cabinet near the other. He could also make out two thin parallel lines in the wall about eight feet apart that seemed to indicate some sort of panel; perhaps there was something behind it. He couldn’t turn his head to see the wall behind him; presumably, that was where the door was.

 

Jonah’s attention was brought back to Kinga when he felt her pressing something against his left temple; it stuck there and he could see what looked like wires trailing from it down to the floor out of the corner of his eye. He then felt the same sensation on his right temple. He expected Kinga to put more of the things on him, but she didn’t; instead, she walked over to the table against the wall and opened a small black box. From it she produced a thin silver object—he couldn’t quite see what—and walked back over to Jonah.

 

As she got closer to him, a lump formed in his throat as he realized that the object was a scalpel. He knew it wouldn’t bode well for him, but Jonah couldn’t help but make one last-ditch effort at defiance. Once she reached the table, Jonah worked up a mouthful of saliva and spat in Kinga’s face. Kinga seemed a bit miffed by this, but after wiping the saliva from her cheek, she smirked and pulled the remote from her pocket.

 

“I’d say I hate to have to use this,” she mused, “But I’m not a liar.” Jonah had no idea what to expect. His blood was pumping at the speed of light as he waited, waited for her to press the button…

 

And then the shocks came. They coursed through his body like an unstoppable tidal wave, a heat that felt like a million sparks jumping beneath his skin and made him spasm violently against his restraints. His cries of pain were so loud that he could barely make out Kinga’s voice as she chastised him.

 

“That’s right, Jonah, this table’s electrified. I’d cooperate if I were you; as much as I love seeing you try to defy me, you could break a bone if you pull too hard against those straps. Now, where was I?” She paused for only a few moments, but it felt like an eternity to Jonah. Finally, _finally_ she pressed the button again and the pain was gone as quickly as it had begun. “I’ll need you to hold as still as possible, Jonah; I think you know what will happen if you don’t.” She glanced down at the remote before slipping it back into her pocket. As she raised her other hand, Jonah couldn’t tear his eyes away from it as she brought the scalpel closer and closer to his chest.

 

There was an intimate stillness in the air as the scalpel’s cold tip first touched Jonah’s skin. He had expected the pain to come right away, but Kinga simply held it there for a moment, bringing the other hand back up to run her fingers through his hair again. She smiled down at him, moving to brush her hand across Jonah’s cheek and trace her thumb over his lips. As she didn’t so, Jonah gritted his teeth in frustration. He could tell by the glint in her eyes that she knew exactly what she was doing. As much as he wanted to bite her or curse her out or spit in her face again, he didn’t want to go through the pain that would come if she used that remote again. So he kept his mouth shut, let her toy with him, and waited, trying to take deep breaths and keep himself from trembling, half-wishing that she would just make the first cut so the suspense would be over with.

 

And then she did. The pain seared through him like a laser through metal, starting an inch or two below his collarbones and slowly moving down to just above his groin. Jonah tried his best not to scream in agony, clenching his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might shatter and clinging to the edges of the table for dear life, but when Kinga made a second cut parallel to his collarbones, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. As if on cue, Kinga took the remote from her pocket and pressed the button, sending the white-hot electricity through Jonah’s body once again. What was different this time, though, was that it actually seemed to _help_. Without it, the pain had been concentrated around the incisions, but with it, the pain seemed to dissipate all over his body in somewhat lesser quantities. He could feel the straps digging into his skin as he spasmed against them, but despite Kinga’s earlier warning, he prayed that she would keep the shocks coming. He didn’t care if he broke his wrist or his ankle or even his neck; all that mattered was making it through this moment in one piece. And now, as he saw Kinga taking a box of what looked like dissecting pins from one of the cabinets, he felt more than ever that he would need all the help he could get.

 

As soon as she got back to the table, though, Kinga pressed the button and the shocks abruptly stopped, leaving Jonah to feel the raw intensity of the pain around the cuts once again. With a sly arch of her brow, she ran her index finger down the vertical cut, making him feel the pain that much more acutely.

 

“Now, as I had mentioned before, you had some questions for me yesterday,” she said, raising a pin towards his abdomen. “So if you want me to answer them, now’s the time.”

 

“Why _now?_ ” Jonah struggled to get the words out as he felt her pull his skin towards his sides.

 

“Because I want to make sure you learn right away what your place is here. You asked me why you were brought here, and this is why. Sometimes I’ll use you as a test subject—although if anyone asks, I’m _always_ using you as a test subject; I don’t want to get in trouble with the law—but more often than not, you’ll simply be my plaything. Whether I can make any scientific advances at all is truly of little concern to me; if it’s not fun, I’m not interested.”

 

“This is _fun_ to you?” Jonah growled as Kinga pushed the first pin through his skin and into his torso. He was scared as hell before, but now he was just angry, furious that someone would kidnap him and torture him for no other reason than her own amusement. If she had been doing it for scientific purposes, at least there would have been some kind of twisted excuse for it, but there wasn’t—and the worst part was that she clearly wasn’t afraid to admit it.

 

“Of course it is.” The reassuring tone in her voice was the last straw for Jonah; he could put up with the physical pain, but the way she talked down to him made the experience demeaning in a way that no amount of bodily harm ever could. His blood boiling with contempt, Jonah gave up on trying to stay on Kinga’s good side and spat out a string of expletives.

 

“Fuck you and fuck your fun! If you think I’m just going to sit back and let you hurt me without a damn reason, you are dead wrong!” He had expected Kinga to use the remote again, but she just chuckled lowly and began to push a second pin through his skin.

 

“I figured as much. And before you ask why I didn’t use the remote this time, I know that you would probably prefer if I did.” Jonah tensed up at that. He had hoped that she wouldn’t know that the electrified table actually helped him, but she did. “Hospitals use TENS units for a reason, Jonah; you’d think I would know that. I imagine this must be similar, even if you don’t have control over when I use this.” She patted her pocket that held the remote. “I do need to do something about that mouth of yours, though, since it’s really the only thing you can try and use against me at this point.” She walked over to the cabinets once more and took something from one of them. Jonah’s eyes widened when he realized that the object was a roll of duct tape. Ripping a piece off of the roll, Kinga walked back over to the table and calmly, almost methodically pressed it down over his mouth. She paused for a moment as if she was thinking something over, and then she tore off another piece and lowered it over Jonah’s eyes. He barely had enough time to close them before he felt its sticky surface touch his face. Once Kinga rubbed her hand over it, he knew that he would be completely blind for as long as she wanted him to be—and since the darkness made him feel the pain even more intensely, that wouldn’t be good. He thought that she would be done with the tape after that, but she wasn’t; as soon as the tape was securely over his eyes, she tore off two more pieces and wrapped them around his fingers, holding them together against each other and effectively preventing him from even being able to flip her the bird, let alone try and grab the scalpel—not that he could see it anyway.

 

The thought hit Jonah like a freight train when he realized just how right she had been in her last statement: _he no longer had any means of showing defiance._ He could struggle against his bonds, but if she planned on using that scalpel any more, it wouldn’t be a good idea lest his movement caused her to accidentally nick an organ. He loathed to admit it, but the most practical course of action was to just wait for it all to be over. Before he could contemplate this any further, though, he felt a stabbing pain in his right side and he knew that Kinga was forcing a third pin through his flesh. He felt her insert a fourth one, then a fifth, then a sixth, wincing each time despite knowing exactly what was coming. He expected a seventh, but it never came. Instead, he felt an agonizing sting—not on his skin, but _inside_ of him, accompanied by a soft, wet sound that he couldn’t place. What made it even more unnerving was the pain was moving, burning its way through him as if some venomous creature was crawling around inside of him. It took surprisingly long for Jonah’s mind to catch up with his body and realize that the source of the pain was Kinga’s hand caressing his insides. A new level of panic seized him with this realization—would she remove anything? Would she remove anything _vital?_ She hadn’t sounded like she had planned to kill him, but he didn’t know for sure. By this point, tears had begun to escape Jonah’s eyes and his breaths were fast and deep.

 

“Relax, Jonah, I’m not going to take anything,” Kinga cooed. “Not just yet anyway. And even if I did, I would almost certainly put it back… Or replace it with something better.” She ran her other hand through his hair once more. Jonah was strangely grateful that she did so with her free hand and not the one that was currently probing around inside of him. He couldn’t see it, but he could certainly feel where her hand was: he could feel the tension in his breathing increase as she stroked his lungs, he could feel individual sections of his intestines as she gently dug her fingers in between them, he could feel his pulse more fully than ever before when she rested her hand on his heart.

 

Just when Jonah thought he couldn’t stand the pain any longer, another feeling began to flood his senses—and somehow, this one felt _good_. Where the darkness had previously made him feel lost and amplified his pain, it now felt like he could just melt into the darkness and enjoy this new feeling of woozy ecstasy. The pain was still there, but it had faded to a dull throbbing under his skin and he felt like he could tune it out. Whatever Kinga was doing, he didn’t care; he felt like he could just float on through it. It felt almost surreal, feeling this peaceful despite being in such a terrible situation.

 

And then the pain came back. Not all at once, but gradually—first in his heart, then in his lungs, then in his other organs, then in his muscles, and finally in his skin until he was back to feeling the cacophony of torturous sensations that he had felt before. He shuddered and twitched in his bonds, trying to squeeze his eyes shut even tighter despite the fact that they were already taped shut. He wasn’t sure what to expect next, but what happened brought the most overwhelming sense of relief that he had ever felt in his life.

 

The pins were pulled out and his skin was moved back into place. At first, when Jonah felt something prick his skin again, he feared it might be more pins, but as he felt something softer following the cold, unforgiving metal, he realized she was stitching him up. Allowing himself to let go of some of the tension in his body, Jonah’s movement reduced from erratic twitching to light quivering and his breaths became slower and more shallow. He didn’t know for sure, and maybe he was getting his hopes up too much, but he had a feeling that the worst of the pain had already passed. As the needle was threaded through his skin again and again, Jonah was overtaken by a feeling of exhaustion the likes of which he had never felt before. Despite the pain, he almost felt as though he could fall asleep right there on the table, the rhythm of the needle going in and out of his skin lulling him slowly into unconsciousness. Before he could drift off completely, though, his chest caught fire in a familiar but unexpected manner and he realized that Kinga had stuck her hand inside the cavity once again.

 

“Just one more reminder of what I can do before I get you off this table.” He could hear Kinga’s voice, but it seemed distant, detached from his world. He was too lost in the pain and the exhaustion and the darkness to truly know where he was at this point. It was as though he was falling into a bottomless pit and there was only his body and mind and Kinga’s hands, the needle and thread connecting them. Fuzzily, the thought of ripping away from Kinga’s hands and tearing his chest completely open again drifted through his mind. It wasn’t a practical thought, especially considering the restraints, but none of Jonah’s thoughts were fully practical at this point.

 

He barely even noticed when the final stitch was made and the repeated pricking finally stopped. He really was only able to fully comprehend it when Kinga slowly pulled the tape from over his eyes, and while the burn that accompanied its removal was painful, the ability to see once more grounded him, helped him feel like he could climb his way out of that bottomless pit after all.

 

A similar stinging burn ignited in his hands as Kinga removed the tape around them, and then the same occurred in his lips. With the tape gone, Jonah tried to speak, to voice his anger, fear, and exhaustion, but his throat was so dry that no sound came out.

 

“It’s alright, Jonah. Don’t say a word; you’ll only put more strain on your throat.” Kinga patted the side of his neck before carefully removing the IV from his arm. He then felt the table begin to move, which surprised him a bit—he hadn’t expected it to be on wheels. Knowing he didn’t have the energy to sit up for long, Jonah resigned himself to taking in as much of his surroundings as he could laying down. As he was turned towards the door, he saw a machine that came up to about Kinga’s shoulders and had a blank screen on it. This, he figured, must have been what Kinga had hooked up to his temples. The thought drifted through his mind that he hadn’t even noticed her remove the disks; that sensation must have been nothing compared to all that pain. Once they were out of the laboratory, the path Kinga wheeled him down was very repetitive, a series of blue-litten corridors with identical white doors here and there. Kinga was silent, leaving him alone with his pain-addled mind. He nearly drifted off to sleep at one point, but Kinga gave him a sharp slap in the face before he could.

 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Jonah; we’re almost there.” The way she said it made Jonah fear that she was taking him to experience even more torture, but when she finally opened a door to their right, what lay behind it was merely the same padded room that he had initially woken up in. He felt himself being lifted up by his shoulders, and it took him longer than he cared to admit to realize that it was Kinga doing the lifting. Turning his body so his legs dangled off the table, she hooked her arms underneath his and lifted him even farther up, attempting to right him on his feet. Jonah, however, was quite weak in the knees and nearly fell out of her arms initially. Taking a few seconds to find his footing, he stumbled over to the mattress like a newborn foal, Kinga maintaining a steady grip on his arms all the way. Earlier, he would have felt humiliated that he was relying on his captor for physical support, but that thought barely crossed his mind now; he was so worn out that all he cared about was getting to the mattress and finally being able to rest.

 

“Goodnight, Jonah.” Kinga’s voice seemed miles away even though he could feel her breath on his ear. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

That was the last thing he heard before she laid him down on the mattress. Not two seconds later, he was out cold, asleep even before Kinga left the room. As the door quietly shut behind her, Jonah was drifting off in his first moments of peace since the distress call had reached his ears.


	3. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonah and Max converse for the first time. Soon after, Kinga adds psychological torture to the mix and starts to get more affectionate with Jonah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Drug use (both consensual and non-consensual), gags, leashes, movement restriction, mentions of amputation, rape, and mouth trauma, improvised restraints, medieval torture devices, very heavy internal bleeding/bruising, force feeding, vomiting, forced urination, humiliation, bootlicking, face slapping (with a hose.)

Jonah woke up to the sound of a door clicking shut. Sitting up with a start, he winced as pain stung his torso. Despite the previous day’s memories rushing back to him, he was still taken aback when he felt the stitches beneath his hands. Before he could dwell on yesterday’s events, though, he was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

 

“Um… excuse me, Jonah?” He turned around and saw Max, the assistant that had accompanied Kinga when Jonah had first met her. He stood just by the doorway, and in his hands was a tray that held a bowl and a glass of water. “Kinga just sent me to bring you something to eat, and—” He abruptly stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Jonah’s stitches. “Wow, she really went in on you, didn’t she?” His voice was despondent and his face was downcast.

 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Jonah spat. He didn’t want anything to do with someone who worked for Kinga knowing what she did.

 

“No, I don’t, but I’ve heard stories, and believe you me, if her family didn’t rope me into it, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

 

“At risk of sounding like Captain Obvious, why don’t you quit?”

 

“Because,” Max walked over to join Jonah on the mattress and handed him the tray. “Kinga wouldn’t let that happen in a million years. There’s no contract or anything that says I can’t quit, but she’d probably kill me before I could even get back to Earth. Of course, in your case—” Before he could finish his sentence, a pager-like device on his belt began buzzing loudly, cutting him off. The look on his face went from dispirited to terrified in a split second. “Shit, that’s Kinga; I gotta go! Oh, and make sure you take that pill; Kinga says it’ll speed up the healing process!”

 

Max was already halfway out the door before he finished speaking, and Jonah could hear his feet pounding down the hallway as the door closed. Alone once again, he turned his attention to the tray. In the bowl was what appeared to be vegetable beef soup, and beside it was a spoon and, just as Max had mentioned, an emerald green pill. For a moment, he wondered if the soup was drugged, but the presence of the pill made him doubt it. Unsure of whether Kinga was playing some kind of trick on him, Jonah opted to eat the soup, wait twenty minutes, and go from there.

 

Upon taking the first bite, it immediately struck Jonah that an abnormally long time had passed since he had last eaten. The previous day’s ordeal had been so overwhelming that he hadn’t given it much thought, but as soon as the first spoonful touched his lips, he felt just how empty his stomach was and tried to eat as fast as he could without spilling anything on himself. It was nothing fancy and probably came from a can, but to Jonah, the soup was an oasis in an endless desert. The salty, heady broth, the tender beef, the somewhat sweet vegetables, they made up the one organic, innocent thing he could hold on to in the cold sterility of Moon 13.

 

After he had licked the last drops out of the bowl, he set it back on the tray and began counting down the seconds until twenty minutes were up. Quickly getting bored with just sitting there and counting to himself, he began twiddling his thumbs, which wasn’t something he thought people actually did until now. Around the eight-minute mark, he grew tired of that and began pacing in circles, and when he got dizzy, he began circling in the other direction. Growing bored of that, too, he laid back down on the mattress and counted the last few minutes until he finally reached zero. Fairly confident that the food wasn’t going to do anything, Jonah put the pill in his mouth, took a drink of water, and swallowed. He then quickly drank the rest of the water, immediately feeling the relief in his parched throat.

 

Not a minute after he set the glass down, he heard the door open once again and looked up to a sight that filled him with dread. Kinga was standing there with a syringe in one hand and a roll of what looked like vet wrap in the other. Shaking himself out of his surprised daze, Jonah sprang up, ran towards her, and threw a punch to her face. He wasn’t about to let her put him through hell two days in a row, and this might be his only foreseeable chance to escape anytime soon. Unfortunately, she darted out of the way before he could reach her, sending him crashing into the padded wall. Before he could right himself and turn around, Kinga pinned his arms behind his back in an all-too-familiar fashion. He tried to kick at her, but as he did, she yanked his arms to the side, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor. Putting one foot on his back, she held his legs down with one hand and carefully stuck the syringe into his lower leg with the other. She then did the same to his other leg and then quickly stood up and ran over to the corner of the room farthest away from him. Scrambling to his feet, Jonah began to sprint towards Kinga, but he had barely taken two steps before he felt himself growing weak in the knees and began to lose his footing. Landing on the floor once again, Kinga walked calmly over to him, picking up the roll of vet wrap from the floor on the way. Jonah tried moving his arms, and upon finding that he could, he attempted to grab Kinga’s ankle, but she once again was too agile for him.

 

“Try that again and you might get your hand stepped on.” Her voice was chiding, with a bit of a singsong tone. “I’d hate to break any of your bones before we get to the main event; it would ruin my plans for today.” Jonah felt a cold pang in his stomach at that; the stitches were one thing, but broken bones were quite another. He hoped she wasn’t implying that she had that planned for him. Kneeling down on the floor beside him, Kinga grabbed his left forearm, bent it back as far as his elbow joints would allow, and began to wrap the vet wrap around his arm, effectively keeping it in that position. When she had wrapped that arm all the way from his wrist to his elbow, she did the same to his other arm. Despite having experienced her strength already, it still surprised Jonah; he was nearly a foot taller than her, but she still managed to overpower him. After attempting to move them, Jonah found that he could move his upper legs, but below the knee, he was completely immobilized. This caused him to be more than a bit surprised when she moved behind him and began wrapping his legs in a similar fashion.

 

When Kinga was finally done, she stood up and admired her handiwork, smiling smugly from ear to ear. She then bent down again and lifted Jonah up by the waist, propping him up onto his elbows and knees. The pressure this put on them was painful, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation he felt when she pulled a ring gag and a black leather lead on a metal chain from her pocket.

 

“Relax, Jonah,” she said, her voice growing softer. “It’s not exactly what you think. I have to silence you somehow, and I certainly don’t want you to escape.” Jonah breathed a sigh of relief. At least his sex life was one thing he could have to himself. “Of course, I certainly could take things in a kinky direction if I ever wanted to… I bet you look absolutely adorable when you’re hot and bothered.” His relief disappearing as quickly as it came, Jonah’s mind swirled with thoughts of what Kinga might do to him if her torturous actions ever got sexual, and he began to feel more uncomfortable about being kept constantly nude. Before, he had thought that the context of it was completely nonsexual, but now he couldn’t shake the thought of what Kinga might be doing as she looked at him through the security camera. He wanted to voice his concern, but her earlier threat of broken bones stopped him from doing so.

 

“But for today,” Kinga continued, “I think we’ll leave that out. I think you’ll already be plenty overwhelmed without adding another layer on top of everything. Now, open.” She brought the gag up to his mouth. Jonah didn’t know what came over him, but he felt compelled to keep his mouth shut. He said nothing—he didn’t want to give her any opportunity to shove that gag in his mouth—but he clamped his mouth shut as hard as he could and lowered his head as far as he could without losing his balance on the stumps that were his arms and legs.

 

“Jonah,” Kinga’s tone became more firm, as if she was scolding a child. “If you don’t open your mouth for me, I’ll have to do this the hard way and sew your lips shut. You don’t want that, do you?” Jonah frantically shook his head no and opened his mouth. He could tell she wasn’t kidding, and he didn’t want to put up with any more pain than he had to.

 

“Good.” Kinga slipped the gag into Jonah’s mouth, carefully buckling it into place. She then slipped the lead over his head and tugged gently on it, motioning for Jonah to follow her out the door. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew that the chain would choke him if he stayed put, so he did his best to walk on his knees and elbows, trying hard to keep up with her. The pressure on his joints and the humiliation of being both literally and metaphorically lowered were nigh unbearable, but he suspected that they were nothing compared to what she would put him through if he didn’t comply, and he was in no position to protest. He wondered what Kinga had waiting for him in the lab this time—if that was even where they were headed. Would she keep things fairly simple, like she did yesterday, or would she put him in some elaborate torture device straight out of _Saw_? Would there be more trauma to his torso, or did she really want him to heal, like Max had said? Would she utilize electricity again? Heat? Cold? Some other stimulus he hadn’t even thought of? He was jolted out of his stream of thoughts by a sight that both relieved and frightened him. Out of one of the doors walked several people in identical black and white uniforms, the first people he had seen here since Kinga and Max. Unable to speak with the gag in his mouth, he simply looked up at her confusedly, hoping that she would tell him who they were.

 

“They work for me, Jonah,” Kinga explained, seeming to understand his curiosity. “Don’t even think about trying to get them to help you; they won’t.” Looking up at them, Jonah went red in the face when he saw how they acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. It made him feel that much more belittled, and he wondered if they had seen her bring anyone else through the hallways like this. As they got further away, Jonah could faintly hear them whispering amongst themselves. He hoped against all hope that they weren’t talking about him.

 

As Kinga continued to lead him through Moon Thirteen’s labyrinthine corridors, Jonah began to feel a wet sensation and a stinging pain in his knees and elbows in addition to the already-rampant ache from walking on them. It didn’t take him long to realize what was happening: he had been walking that way for so long that the vet wrap had been rubbing against his skin enough to make him bleed. By now, he had also begun to drool around the gag, which added another layer of humiliation along with the new physical pain. For a bit, he tried to tread as lightly as he could hoping to alleviate some of the pressure, but this greatly slowed him down and he could feel the chain around his neck tighten to an uncomfortable degree as Kinga refused to slow her own pace. Opting to speed back up, he could feel the bandages rubbing against him even more with each step and hoped they would reach their destination before his skin was worn down to the bone.

 

Luckily, his hopes were true; a few minutes later, Kinga finally opened a door at the end of the hallway they were in and led him inside. It wasn’t the lab they had been in yesterday; this room was tiled from floor to ceiling with a spigot on one wall, and it had no furniture save for a refrigerator and freezer near the back left corner and a metal chair in the middle of the room. Beside the chair were two vaguely cylindrical hinged metal objects, two long wooden wedges, a hammer, and what looked like a metal bucket on stilts, and beneath the chair was a drain. Jonah felt his pulse quicken at the thought of what the bucket and the drain could be for. He tried to push them out of his mind, but he couldn’t help but imagine scenarios of bloodletting, of being doused with boiling water, of having parts of himself dissolved in acid… And the hammer, too, frightened him; perhaps Kinga planned to make good on her threat of broken bones after all. As much as he wanted to tell himself he was overreacting, he knew deep down that Kinga would probably do all of those things and more. Once she had led him in front of the chair, she began to carefully unwrap his legs. Sure enough, his knees were bleeding, and the removal of the vet wrap felt like a godsend. The pain was far from gone, but at least he didn’t have the material rubbing up against his wounds anymore. Unfortunately, a new sort of pain flooded his legs soon after, a tingling ache that obviously came from having his legs bent into such an uncomfortable position for a long time. When his legs were fully unwrapped, Kinga lifted him up into the chair and began unwrapping his left arm, keeping a careful hold on the lead with one hand, Looking down, Jonah saw that his elbow, as he had expected, was also bloody. Once she had removed the vet wrap, Kinga took hold of his wrist and did something that was more than a little surprising to Jonah: she took the lead off. Jonah couldn’t do anything, though; his legs were still paralyzed, she had his wrist in her hand, and since he was sitting down and she was standing beside him, even headbutting her would be difficult. Kneeling down, Kinga began to wrap the lead around Jonah’s wrist, tying it to the arm of the chair and effectively doing away with his confusion as to why she had removed the lead. She then unwrapped his other arm and tied the other end of the lead around it in the same fashion. Once again, the ache began to form in his arms just as it had in his legs, and he wished he could move them to help alleviate it a bit. Unable to do so, all he could do was let out a low whimper of pain.

 

“Poor thing,” Kinga said, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. “Look on the bright side, I could have amputated your forelimbs and made you crawl down the hallway like that.” Jonah fearfully pictured himself as she described, with half of each arm and leg hacked off, crawling behind her and leaving a spot of blood with each step. He couldn’t imagine how much pain that would bring, and he hoped he would never have to find out.

 

Then, out of the blue, he felt something cold and hard on his lower legs. Looking down, Jonah saw that Kinga had fastened the cylindrical metal things around them. They weren’t attached to anything and weren’t particularly constricting; in fact, they were actually a bit loose on him, so Jonah was puzzled as to what their purpose was if not to act as restraints.

 

As he pondered this, Kinga walked out of his line of sight and he heard a door open and close—presumably the door to the freezer or the refrigerator. He heard her footsteps get closer again, and she was soon back to being beside him. When her footsteps stopped, new sounds soon followed; Jonah could hear the rustling of a ziploc bag and the wet, metallic sound of water—no, something thicker, more like mud—hitting metal.

 

He gasped in surprise when he felt Kinga tug on his hair, trying to tilt his head back. He complied at first, but when he saw the clear plastic tube in Kinga’s other hand, he tried with all his might to force his head back down. Kinga, as usual, did not put up with his attempt at resistance and yanked his hair so hard that Jonah thought she might rip it out if she pulled any harder. Growling and gasping at the pain, Jonah’s stomach began to do backflips as Kinga brought the tube closer and closer to his mouth. When it passed through the ring gag and touched the back of his throat, he tried his best to keep himself from gagging. Surprisingly, it became easier as she pushed it further and further down his throat, but with that came a new sensation—not quite pain, but an uncomfortable feeling that there was something inside of him that just _shouldn’t_ be.

 

It suddenly dawned on him that he didn’t know exactly _what_ Kinga would put through that tube. Before he could think about it any further, he saw a pinkish-brown substance beginning to make its way down the tube, and he soon felt the cold sensation of the thick liquid sliding down his throat. He wanted to scream, but he didn’t want to risk choking on whatever that stuff was. By now he was trembling, and he could feel his palms growing slick with sweat.

 

“Relax, Jonah; it’s just a simple force feeding. There’s nothing harmful in there,” Kinga reassured him. Jonah was only the slightest bit relieved that that; just because the substance itself wasn’t harmful didn’t mean the quantity of it wouldn’t be. “Yes, I know you just ate, but this is what I want to do to you. Now,” Kinga continued, “Are you familiar with the Spanish boot?” Jonah quickly shook his head no, and Kinga’s smile widened at that. “Well, then allow me to demonstrate it for you. The Spanish boot is a medieval torture device—in fact, it’s the very device you have on each of your legs right now—and it works like this.”

 

She picked up one of the wooden wedges and the hammer, positioning the thin end of the wedge next to his leg on the inside of the metal tube. She then shoved it in as far as she could—which was only about an inch. What came next was a crushing pain as she took the hammer to the top of the wedge, pounding it further and further into the boot and putting an excruciating amount of pressure on his leg.

 

By the time the wedge was halfway in, Jonah was beginning to feel his stomach growing uncomfortably full and, oddly, also began to feel a desperate need to use the bathroom. He thought back to the day’s earlier events and realized that he hadn’t relieved himself at all since Kinga first kidnapped him. Shuddering at the thought that Kinga must have done it for him at least once while he was unconscious, he wondered whether Kinga had planned to make him wait this long to go. Knowing her, she probably did. Jonah closed his eyes in a futile attempt to tune out the mortification he felt, but they soon flew open when Kinga hammered the wedge even further down.

 

“Normally, these devices would eventually break the victim’s bones,” Kinga explained, her tone all too calm. “But I’ve decided to leave a little extra room and spare you that pain... Wouldn’t want you having an endorphin rush like you did yesterday when you clearly don’t deserve it. Besides, leaving you immobile would severely limit my options for what I could do to you.”

 

It felt like the metal casing would burst if she drove the wedge in any further, so Jonah was extremely relieved when she put the hammer down. He hoped he would adjust to the pain and be able to focus on keeping whatever she was feeding him down, although he knew that would be impossible if she pounded the wedge in even an inch more. It already seemed close to impossible now.

 

“You know,” Kinga said, her voice soft with affection, “I really do love seeing you like this. Maybe I’ll have to feed you like this every day.” She stood up and ran a cold hand over his stomach, causing him to squirm in his seat. “I wouldn’t have the boots on you every time, though… Variety is the spice of life, after all.” Jonah felt a twinge of vulnerable disgust at the thought. “But then again,” she continued, “I wouldn’t want you to get _used_ to what this feels like… That would take all the fun out of it.” She brought her hand up to wrap around his throat, making him feel the cold sludge sliding down it even more acutely. Jonah’s mouth was beginning to water, and he could tell he was going to throw up if she made him take much more.

 

Kinga slowly ran her hand up and down Jonah’s throat, lightly squeezing it a few times. She then let go, picked up the second wedge, and began to pound it into the other boot. Each knock sent a tremor through Jonah and made him feel the fullness of his stomach and his bladder even more intensely. Then, without any warning, she did what Jonah had feared: She hammered the wedge in the rest of the way at a punishing pace, and then did the same to the other one. The loud, unforgiving crack of metal on wood reverberated through his ears, and with each hit, his legs were compressed even further against themselves.

 

Jonah’s cries of anguish echoed through the room, and he felt like his bones would snap if he moved his legs even a millimeter. The ache in his stomach was equally overpowering, and his need to relieve himself was also growing strong enough where he feared he wouldn’t be able to hold it through the rest of this torture session. How long, he wondered, did she plan on keeping him there anyway? He didn’t think he could take much more without his resolve breaking in at least one respect, if not all three. He felt a pang of resigned despair as he realized that once again, he could do nothing but wait for it all to end. Whatever Kinga allowed to happen, Jonah was going to feel an embarrassingly high degree of physical and emotional pain. He hated the fact that he couldn’t do more to protest, and he equally hated the fact that whenever he did protest, she would just make things worse.

 

Thankfully, Kinga finally began to remove the tube from his mouth a few seconds later. For a moment, Jonah thought that he would keep his dignity after all, but when the tube was nearly out, the end of it touched a sensitive spot in the back of his throat and caused him to violently vomit through his gag. The burn it left in his mouth only added to his discomfort, and while some of the tension in his stomach went away, it was still uncomfortably full. Not two seconds after he stopped throwing up, Kinga began to untie the knots in the now vomit-soaked lead. Seizing what was probably his only chance to fight back, Jonah pulled his arm up and attempted to smack Kinga across the face. Almost immediately, Kinga grabbed his wrist and forced his arm back down, simultaneously pressing her free hand slightly above Jonah’s groin. As he began to feel a warm wetness pooling beneath him, Jonah retched again and sent more vomit splashing down onto himself, the chair, the floor, and unfortunately, Kinga. She initially recoiled in mock horror, but her expression quickly softened and she began to calmly berate him.

 

“Jonah, Jonah, Jonah… If you had felt like you needed to throw up or use the bathroom, you could have just told me.” Jonah took in a seething, frustrated breath at that. She knew perfectly well that he had the ring gag in, and while she had talked down to him before, now she was flat-out mocking him and it infuriated him to no end.

 

“It’s a shame, really,” Kinga continued, “I was going to go easy on you and let you use the toilet after I was done with you, but you had to try and fight back again.” As she spoke, she slipped the lead’s chain around Jonah’s neck. “Now stand up, and keep your arms down at your sides or else.”

 

It was yet another in a seemingly never-ending series of impossible tasks. Between the crushing pressure of the boots and the raw sting of his bloodied knees, Jonah was in too much pain to even consider standing up. With glazed eyes, he looked pleadingly up at Kinga and tried his best to say that it would be too painful, but with the gag still in his mouth, it all came out garbled.

 

“What was that, Jonah? Do you need some help?” Jonah frantically nodded. “Well, I can’t tell what you’re saying with that gag in your mouth; do you want me to take it out?” Jonah nodded again.

 

“I’ll take it out on one condition,” she said, her voice growing more stern. “When I do, I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth aside from how I can help you stand up. One insult, one plea for freedom, anything I don’t want to hear and you’ll be sleeping in here tonight, laying on the floor and covered in your own piss and vomit. Understood?” Jonah nodded once more, this time more timidly.

 

“Alright.” Kinga’s voice was threateningly tentative, and Jonah knew she didn’t quite believe that he would do as she said. Slowly and carefully, she unbuckled the strap around Jonah’s head and removed the gag from his mouth. She held it in front of him for a few seconds, allowing him to see the drool and vomit dripping from it. “Now, what is it you want me to do?”

 

“Please…” Jonah painfully choked out, the word feeling like a flame burning its way up his throat. “Please take the boots off.” He kept his request short; he didn’t want to talk any more than he had to.

 

“I don’t know…” Her voice softened. “You haven’t been very good today, or yesterday for that matter. I could make you walk all the way back with them on; perhaps that would help you learn to be a bit more compliant. Maybe I won’t even wash you up first.”

“No…” Jonah regretted saying that the moment it came out. He hoped she wouldn’t take that as a sign of defiance.

 

“You don’t want that?” Kinga trailed her fingers over Jonah’s vomit-covered chest, slowly bringing them up to smear the acrid-smelling fluid on his face. He winced in disgust, wishing he had the courage left to wipe it off. But she had ordered him to keep his arms at his sides, and he knew he shouldn’t push his luck. “Well, if you want me to take them off, I at least want you to clean them up for me. You did create this mess, after all.” She gestured down at the puddle of urine and vomit on the floor, a disdainful look on her face.

 

 _There has to be some kind of a catch to this,_ Jonah thought. When he weighed the options in his head, though, he knew that whatever it was would probably be easier that making the journey through the hallways with those infernal contraptions on his legs.

 

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

 

“Good.” Kinga ruffled his hair with her soiled hand before taking an Allen key from her pocket and inserting it into a small hole in the side of the left boot. It opened with a barely audible click, and the wooden wedge clattered to the floor. As the blood rushed back to Jonah’s lower legs, he could feel the same tingling ache that he felt when Kinga had removed the vet wrap. What made it worse now, though, was that it was accompanied by an unrelenting, extreme soreness that only got worse every time he moved or touched his legs. It felt like the proverbial weight had been lifted off his shoulders only to be replaced with a lighter one. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected when he looked down at his legs, but the sight shocked him to the core nonetheless. They were black and blue all over from his ankles to just below his ragged knees, so much so that had he seen their appearance on someone else, he would have sworn that it was frostbite. He had managed to hold them back until now, but tears stung his eyes as he laid them on Kinga’s handiwork.

 

Setting that boot down, Kinga unlocked the other one and set it beside the first. Jonah took a deep breath as if he was preparing to jump off a cliff and slowly stood up, teeth clenched and hands fisted, and bent down to pick up the offending metal objects. He had just begun to limp over to the spigot when Kinga interrupted him.

 

“No, no. Not that way. Lick them off.”

 

 _So_ that _was the catch._ He had already made his promise to her; there was no backing out now. Squeezing his eyes shut, he began licking at the metal as fast as he could, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. The sickly sweet mixture of vomit and urine combined with the sheer humiliation of the act nearly made him gag, but he steeled himself; the last thing he wanted was to throw up all over the boots and have to lick that up too. When the acidic, repulsive taste finally gave way to a more metallic one, Jonah feverishly handed the boot to Kinga and set to work on the other one.

 

“In a bit of a hurry, are we?” Kinga said, her voice tinged with both austerity and adoration. Jonah looked up at her, stopping his movements mid-lick. “Oh, don’t stop on my account… I just might have to cut out that cute little tongue of yours if you don’t keep using it.” Jonah resumed licking before she had even finished the sentence; at this point, staying on her good side and making it back to his room in one piece was the only thing that occupied his mind.

 

“You know,” Kinga continued, “I’m not sure what I’d like better: having you as you are now, rebellious and scared and desperate for the pain to be over, or having you warm up to me… Maybe you’d even get to a point where you enjoy the pain, where you’d gladly take whatever I give you. Oh, you’d still try to resist sometimes, I’m sure; a certain amount of fight-or-flight would probably be unavoidable in the heat of the moment, and I’m sure I’d come up with things to really push your limits… I wouldn’t want you perfectly compliant all the time; it wouldn’t be as much fun that way. No matter what, though, you do make an adorable little gore whore for me.” The words drilled further and further into Jonah’s brain each time his tongue touched the metal. He swore to himself that no matter how long it took, he would tough it out until he found some means of escape, and as soon as he did, he would do everything he could to have her locked up until she died. He was so caught up in his rage-filled thoughts that he didn’t notice Kinga’s hand moving to abruptly snatch the boot from his grasp.  
  
“That’s enough, Jonah.” She jerked the thing out of his hands so quickly that he lost his balance. Not prepared to steady himself, he fell forward, clumsily sticking his arms out to break his fall as he landed facedown in the obscene puddle. As he went down, he caught a glimpse of the evil smirk on Kinga’s face.   
  
“Jonah,” Kinga’s voice sounded simultaneously affectionate and disappointed, and she let out a series of sharp _tsks_ as she crouched down next to him. “I had a feeling this was going to happen.” _Understatement of the year,_ Jonah thought. Knowing her, she had probably _meant_ for this to happen. His anger turned to panic when she stood up and headed for the door. Was she going to leave him to sleep in there as she had threatened? As he lay there with baited breath, praying that she would come back, all of his senses seemed to heighten against his will. The nauseating, acrid smell, the scalding taste in his mouth, the unpleasant wetness on his skin, it all overpowered him that much more in the deafening silence that Kinga had left behind her. It reminded him just how powerless he was; he wasn’t even sure he had the energy to stand up again, let alone move over to the spigot and attempt to wash himself off.   
  
Just as he was about to admit defeat, Jonah heard a noise that was like music to his ears: the door had opened again. Craning his neck to look up as far as he could, he saw that Kinga had returned with what looked like a hose in her hands. She walked out of his view in the direction of the spigot, and the squeaking noise that followed told him that she was hooking up the hose. Jonah finally allowed himself to relax a bit at this; hopefully she would wash him off and then he could finally go back to his room.

 

And then the water hit. Frigid as the Arctic Ocean and merciless as an advancing army, it raised pins and needles in his skin and had him curling up into a ball both for warmth and to shield his face. He didn’t stay in that position for long, however; Kinga yanked his still-sensitive legs out from beneath him and pelted them with the freezing water as his chest hit the floor with an unforgiving thud. She then rolled him onto his back with a grunt and sprayed down the front half of his body. The water pressure was so high it hurt all over, but it was especially painful when she got to his knees. It may have numbed the pain in his bruised legs a bit, but feeling the torrent on an open wound was a different story. The only time she let up on the pressure at all was when she got to his torso—to keep yesterday’s incisions healing properly, he guessed—but even then, the temperature was still agonizingly cold. He tried to sit up, to move away from her, but she whipped the end of the hose up against his face, the metal end catching him in the cheek. Wincing in pain, he didn’t see her bring the hose up to his face and was hit with a spray of ice-cold water, some of which ended up in his eyes and nose. When it finally stopped, Jonah slowly looked up only to be hit with one more icy blast to the face.

 

“Stay down; I’ll bring you back to your room in a bit. You really shouldn’t be walking on those legs now.” She opened the door once again, and it took her less than a minute to come back with a table like the one he had been on yesterday. Jonah hoped it wasn’t the same one; he had already been through enough today without adding electric shocks to the mix. Ducking her head out the door, she whispered something Jonah couldn’t make out and was followed back in by one of the black-suited people they had seen in the hallway. The two of them lifted Jonah onto the table and Kinga began to wheel it out of the room.

 

“Don’t worry, Jonah, this one’s not electrified. You can relax now… You can even go to sleep if you want.” Kinga ran her fingers through Jonah’s hair.

 

Choosing to believe her for his energy’s sake, Jonah let his eyes flutter shut and quickly fell asleep. Despite the cold, the pain, and what little fear he had the energy to feel, he allowed his exhaustion to overtake him. With the rolling of the table lulling him to sleep, Jonah was out before they even reached his room.


	4. Days Three and Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinga and Jonah leave Moon 13 for the first time since the latter’s arrival. Unfortunately, Kinga has some rather unorthodox ideas about how Jonah should travel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Isolation, noncon, (vibrating) butt plugs, choke pears, plastic wrap and duct tape as bondage implements, claustrophobia/small spaces, needles, mouth/lip trauma, stitches (all three of those are related to Jonah getting his mouth sewn shut), mentions of tongue trauma, mentions of anal tearing, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of chastity cages.

Kinga didn’t show up at all the next day. In retrospect, Jonah should have been relieved, but he spent the entire day waiting, nerves frayed and heart pounding, for her to come. Alone with his thoughts and without anything to distract him, his mind was filled with dread and his eyes with tears as he tried to imagine what Kinga would have in store for him. His only solace—and his only means of keeping track of time—was in the meals brought to him, this time not by Max but by an unsmiling, silent man in one of those black and white uniforms. Jonah tried to ask him where Kinga was each time, but he never responded, just waited as Jonah ate in silence. When Jonah had finished the meal, the man would lead him to a nearby bathroom so he could relieve himself. He was grateful for this; at least Kinga was giving him this one thing back, even if it meant having to use his still-sensitive legs to get to it.  
  
When the day was done at last, sleep came with surprising difficulty. He had a nagging suspicion that Kinga would indeed come for him at some point that night and it kept him up for what seemed like hours, his resolve wearing thinner with every second. Jonah hadn’t thought that doing absolutely nothing was a viable torture method, but Kinga sure as hell was making it work. He expected her to come, and yet he probably would have still jumped in surprise if he heard the door open again. Eventually he did fall asleep, but only because he was so tired that even keeping his eyes open was a chore, and he wondered as he drifted off how long he had been awake for and if Kinga would make him go through the next day with only a fraction of the sleep he usually got.  
  
...  
  
“Jonah... Wake up, sweet thing, I’ve got some good news for you...” Kinga’s voice drifted into his ears like fog, and he wasn’t quite able to comprehend her words at first. Blearily, he opened his eyes and looked up at her, and it wasn’t until he felt the touch of skin on skin that he realized he had reached out to take her hand. He wanted to let go, but something made him inexplicably hesitate, and Kinga seized the opportunity to pull him up into a sitting position, wrapping her hands around his wrists and moving to sit in his lap. Jonah knew better than to try and stand up; not only would she probably be mad as hell, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to take his chances walking when his lower legs were still in pain. He was thankful that Kinga was sitting on his thighs rather than there, although he was less thankful that she was beginning to lean in uncomfortably close and cupping his cheek with her hand.  
  
“We’re going on a trip, just you and I,” Kinga told him. “A dear friend of mine is having a little party—well, actually, it’s not that little; more like a gala, really—and I’m bringing you as my plus-one.” Jonah became a bit more alert at that. Maybe being in a public place could give him an opportunity to escape. He couldn’t escape her grip right now, however; as she spoke, she pulled him in even closer, burying his face in the shoulder of her peacoat and running her hand up and down his back. She smelled like laundry detergent, spicy perfume, and hospitals, any human odors barely detectable beneath it all.  
  
“Of course,” she continued, “before we go, I’ll need to make sure you’re ready for travel.” Jonah wondered for a moment what she meant by that, but he soon looked over her shoulder and saw what he believed to be the answer. In a dark green plastic tote behind her sat numerous objects, some clearly visible and others obscured by the things laying on top of them. He could make out a spool of black thread, a roll of plastic wrap, a bag of needles, a box of latex gloves, and a bottle filled with some kind of clear liquid. He wondered whether everything would be put to use or if some of it was just meant to scare him; knowing Kinga, it was probably the former.

  
“Now don’t move, Jonah. If you do, I will not hesitate to put the boots back on you. Your legs are healing so nicely, too...” She was right: as she stood up, he saw that the bruising had mostly faded to a sickly yellow color, although there were a few purplish spots here and there. Going back into the boots was the last thing he needed if he planned to make an escape attempt, so he simply stayed where he sat, watching as she took the thread and a small pair of scissors from the tote.  
  
“Now,” she said as she snipped a length of thread from the roll. “Do you recall what you said yesterday when I threatened to make you sleep in that room?” Jonah knew the answer, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it. As such, he said nothing. “You don’t? Or are you just scared to tell me? Either way, that’s awfully dumb of you.” Jonah felt himself turn beet red at that last bit. “No, that’s okay, it’s cute. If perhaps you don’t recall, you told me ‘No.’ And while the way you said it was absolutely adorable,” she said, moving her hand up to ruffle his hair, “You still tried to tell me what to do, and that is something I can’t put up with for the next few days if you’re going to accompany me in public.” She turned to move back towards him, and Jonah felt a pang of fear shoot through him when he saw the threaded needle in her hand.  
  
“I know I mentioned cutting your tongue out, but I think that would be a bit too permanent for my tastes... I’d miss hearing your pleas for mercy. What I can do,” she said, bringing the needle up to his lips, “Is sew your lips shut. I would advise you to try and be as silent and still as possible for this. And don’t you dare try to keep your mouth open; that’ll just make the process that much longer.”

 

Jonah told himself that this would be nothing compared to the stitches in his torso, but what he forgot was that not only had he already been through an astronomical amount of pain when he had gotten them, his lips were sensitive in a way that his chest and abdomen weren’t. The moment she pushed the needle through his skin, his attempts to reassure himself were refuted. He wanted to cry out, to bite his lip, to spit in her face again, but they were all out of the question now. All he could do to distract himself was clench his jaw and get a death grip on Kinga’s waist, although she nipped the latter in the bud by yanking his hands back down to his sides.

 

“In case you haven’t gotten it through your head,” she said, her voice growing rougher than usual, “I’m the one who hurts you, not the other way around. Now unless you want me to sew your arms to your sides too, I suggest you keep that in mind.” She dug her nails into his hands as she spoke, and Jonah thought she might break the skin if she did so for much longer. Opting to grip the edge of the mattress instead, growling moans of agony escaped his lips as Kinga continued to sew them shut.

 

She was at least consistent, always stitching through the point where Jonah’s lips and philtrum met, but the process was slow, and the feeling of the thread being pulled through his flesh felt like it might take a piece of him with it if she wasn’t careful. Luckily, she was, but this meant each stitch took that much longer to finish. By the time she was halfway done, sweat had begun to drip down his forehead and his breathing had grown faster and more shallow.

 

“Why so upset, Jonah?” Kinga ran her hand across his shoulder and up his neck, stopping to cup his cheek. “This is nothing compared to your first day.”

 

Jonah’s breath went from shallow to seething. She was mocking him _again,_ and it made him want to strangle her. He knew, though, but attempting to do so wouldn’t get him nowhere, so he just waited as she continued to push the needle in, out, in and out until at last she was done.

 

“There.” She ran a finger over his lips, and Jonah did everything within his power not to flinch. “Now stay still, there’s a few more things I need to do before we leave.” Opting to listen to her, Jonah saw Kinga reach into the bin once again, this time pulling out the plastic wrap. She then climbed up off of his lap, moving to sit beside him. Holding one end of the roll against his upper arm, she began to wrap the material around him, effectively securing his arms at his sides. When she had done so a good twenty or thirty times, she took a roll of clear duct tape from the bin and wrapped that around him until it covered the plastic wrap entirely. The sensation of being restrained in such a way made him feel oddly claustrophobic. Jonah wanted to move his arms to see just how strong it was, but he didn’t—he couldn’t risk Kinga mistaking it for a futile attempt to break free. He soon felt Kinga get up from behind him.

 

“Could you lie facedown on the mattress for me?” Jonah hated the way she asked him as if he had a choice. He slowly stood up, taking a deep breath as he felt the pain of moving his legs for the first time in a while, and tried to maintain his balance as well as he could while he turned to lay down. When he finally did, he looked to the side and saw Kinga remove two more objects from the bin: the bottle of clear liquid and a vaguely pear-shaped metal device. Without a word, she began to pour some of the liquid into the palm of her hand. This came as a bit of a relief to Jonah; at least it didn’t appear to be something that could hurt him. His relief was short-lived, however; he realized what it actually was the moment Kinga began to rub it in between his ass cheeks. He had known this was coming eventually, but he hadn’t anticipated that she would start getting sexual with him a mere two days after she brought it up. _At least,_ he tried to reassure himself, _this wasn’t something entirely foreign to him._

 

Jonah gasped when he felt the cold metal on his skin. As Kinga began to push the thing into him, he expected to feel pain, for it to stretch him to an unbearable extent, but it didn’t. If anything, it felt _good_ , the sensation of it resting against his prostate serving to distract from that in his lips and knees. Once again, he suspected that there must be a catch—what it was, he didn’t know, nor did he want to.

 

Soon after, Kinga lifted him up by his shoulders, moving him into a sitting position.

 

“Stand up,” she instructed him. “We’re done here.” Jonah did as he was told, not bothering to try and stop her when she took the lead from two days ago out of the bin and slipped it around his neck. He slowly began to wish he had fought back, though, as he realized that this meant he would have that thing in his ass while he was led down the hallway for god knows how long. Kinga must have seen his face flush, for she was quick to reassure him.

 

“Don’t worry, Jonah, by now I’ve informed everyone here of how I’m keeping you.” She ran her hand down his chest, pausing just above his crotch as if she was considered something before ultimately taking her hand away. “You aren’t going to make anyone uncomfortable.” That wasn’t the kind of reassurance he needed to hear. Not only was it humiliating, but if she had told all of her employees that much, what else did they know? He thought back to that first day when she had said his name without asking him of it. If she had indeed done some snooping on his ship, who knew what confidential information she could have shared?

 

His train of thought was derailed when he felt Kinga’s hand on the small of his back, ushering him towards the door. Neither one of them said anything, making the click of the door opening that much louder in their silence as they exited the room. As Kinga led him wordlessly down the hallway, Jonah recalled the last time he had walked—no, _crawled_ —through those corridors, the remaining pain in his scabbed-over knees and elbows bringing him back to that seemingly endless trip from two days ago. He wondered if she would ever make him go through that again or if she had some other plans in mind for making it as awful as possible to get from Point A to Point B. At least today it was somewhat pleasurable; the thing in his ass sent a little wave of pleasure through him with every step. As they walked on, though, Jonah found that this was a double-edged sword—he soon found it distracting to the point where it was difficult for him to maintain his composure, his walking became more unsteady, and he found himself struggling not to moan or take deeper breaths lest he put more stress on his lips. All of this evidently caught Kinga’s attention, for she suddenly and without warning swiped a finger over his cock, which was now leaking precome. It was barely a touch, but it sent such a shudder through Jonah that he almost tripped.

 

“Disgusting.” Kinga sneered, placing her hand on Jonah’s shoulder and smearing the whitish fluid on it with disdain. “Still getting turned on even when I have you in pain. And when I haven’t said you could, no less.” Jonah let out a seething growl at that. _It was an involuntary response, damn her._ “I know, I know you can’t help it,” Her voice began to soften. “But I call the shots around here. I should put that thing in a cage for this, but since you’ve been better behaved than usual today, I’ll at least spare you that. Besides, I think that this—” She pushed sharply on the metal device in his ass, “Will be more than enough.” Jonah couldn’t resist moaning at the sudden pressure, and it felt as though the stitches would rip right through his lips. He winced, clenching his teeth to hold back a scream of pain. “Now come on, we don’t have much further to go.”

 

She gave a sharp tug on the lead and Jonah picked up the pace. They soon turned a corner into what looked almost like a jet bridge, and Jonah felt a rush of relief that no one had seen him this time. He just hoped that whatever was on the other side wouldn’t be worse than what she had already put him through. It took less than a minute to go through the bridge, but each step heightened the feeling of dread in Jonah’s stomach and made the seconds feel like hours. When they were finally on the other side, the sight that greeted them was a surprisingly mundane one: it was the interior of an obviously new (albeit small) ship, furnished in silver and blue and without a single torture device in sight. To the left was the cockpit and to the right was the cabin, which had a leather-upholstered couch and a few chairs, a table, and a bed towards the back. The thought of her putting the bed to use flashed through his mind, making him gulp. He prayed it wouldn’t become a reality.

 

Instead of going into the cabin, however, Kinga guided him towards the cockpit, stopping by a closet that he previously hadn’t seen. Jonah held his breath as she opened the door, afraid to find out what fiendish devices lay behind it. Once it was open, Jonah took one look and was utterly surprised.

 

There was nothing there. For a split second, he wondered why she had opened it in the first place, but she soon answered that question with a single word.

 

“In.”

 

He did as she said. There was no point in arguing with her right now if he wanted to have an opportunity to escape later. She closed the door behind him and it got darker and darker, smaller and smaller, until there was only a sliver of light left and it was clear he wouldn’t even be able to sit down. But right before she close the door all the way, Jonah saw something that made his heart seize up. In her hand was a remote that looked suspiciously similar to the one she could used to control the electrified table three days ago.

 

“Goodnight, Jonah,” Kinga whispered before she shut the door the rest of the way.

 

And just like that, Jonah was alone. There was nothing but pain in his lips and the plug in his ass, both of which made it difficult to focus on how he was going to make it through this trip. It may not have been completely rational, but Jonah decided that he should at least test the waters and let himself come just once before trying to hold back; he didn’t know, after all, how bad the shocks would be. Maybe the pleasure would outweigh them after all.

 

Coming was not especially difficult for Jonah, even without the use of his hands. He found that the closet’s small size allowed him to lean back against the wall while still being able to rut against the door, and however undignified it was, he did it anyway. If getting himself off was the only way to get through the pain and the boredom, he would do it even at a price. Yesterday had been dull enough; he didn’t want to go through another second of complete boredom—and now there was no security camera. It felt rebellious, grinding against the door so wantonly knowing that Kinga would be furious, and it made him feel excited for the first time in days. The emotional rush of breaking the rules just took him even higher, and before he knew it, he was coming, wet strands shooting on to the door and dripping down his thighs. What was more, Jonah didn’t feel any sharks at all. He smiled in spite of the pain in his lips. For once, Kinga’s plan hadn’t worked—maybe her remote was broken, maybe she couldn’t hear him from in the cockpit, maybe something else entirely had happened, but no matter what it was, Jonah relished the feeling of triumph.

 

And then he felt it: not a shock, but the feeling that his hole was being stretched to an extremely painful degree, not by one object, but by four pointed ones. It wasn’t enough to tear, but if it stretched him much wider, it definitely would be. Soon after, he also felt the plug beginning to vibrate, and he could tell that it would be difficult not to come a second time if Kinga left him in there for much longer. _So that was what the remote controlled._ Slowly, he began to hear the sound of Kinga’s laughter echoing in his ears, and while at first he thought he was hallucinating, the moment she began to speak proved him wrong.

 

“Just like I said… Disgusting. Yes, Jonah, I do have an intercom in here; I wouldn’t want my pet getting completely bored on the way. And besides, it’s not like you’re the first person I’ve stored in there.” Jonah in the pit of the stomach. _How many people she tortured like this?_ “No need to be jealous, none of them were mine. I was just delivering them to some acquaintances of mine. In fact you might actually get to meet them.” Strangely, Jonah’s reaction was that of not only fear for his well-being but also fear of abandonment. However twisted it was, Kinga had shown him some affection and he dreaded the thought of her giving him to someone even less caring than she was.

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t give you to them. You’re far too adorable for that.”

 

Jonah wanted to try and cry out through the stitches, but a few seconds later, he heard the soft sound of static and he knew that Kinga was done talking.

 

Alone in the dark once again, Jonah bit down on his tongue and tried to concentrate on not coming a second time. When biting his tongue wasn’t enough, he tried other methods of distraction: digging his nails into his skin, stepping on his own feet, thanking of the previous torture that Kinga had put him through, but none of it was enough—the vibrations were too powerful. He pictured the device tearing through his flesh and Kinga opening the door to find him in agony, a pool of blood beginning to form around his feet. The thought humiliated him to no end. Soon, he found himself growing dangerously close, and his stomach began to do backflips at the idea of that thought becoming a reality.

 

Just as he thought coming would be inevitable, he felt the vibrations slow and eventually stop, followed by a loud rumbling as the ship landed. An uncomfortably bright light suddenly shone into the closet, and as it did, it took Jonah a surprisingly long time to calm down a bit and realize that he had made it through the ride. Kinga was finally letting him out.


End file.
